


Post-Pie

by destielpasta



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Smut, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:42:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielpasta/pseuds/destielpasta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some post-thanksgiving smut. Cas is finally at the bunker and all is well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Post-Pie

Dean knew it was his fault, as his back hit the sheets with a muffled _fwump_ , his feet still flat against the floor in his boots. Cas crawled over him, straddling his hips and caging him in with both his arms. Dean reveled in Cas’s bright eyes, blue and shining and crinkled at the corners, softening his otherwise stern expression.

“I don’t know what you think you were doing with that fork. But I assure you that I intend to do something about it,” Cas whispered, dipping his head down to nip at Dean’s neck.

Thanksgiving had passed by with an ominous amount of normalcy, Dean deciding it was time to have a turkey and some trimmings if only so he could really see what the kitchen could do. And to make sure Kevin got some food in him that wasn’t 95% sodium. Just because he would probably die of a heart attack didn’t mean the kid would have the same fate.

And yeah, giving Cas a good first thanksgiving had been a plus.

They just got done with desert, and Dean was ashamed to say he had been a little on the pornographic side when he got a taste of his own apple pie. But who could blame him? It was only so often he got to taste a real pie not wrapped in plastic. Cas’s eyes had been glued to him until Sam and Kevin announced they were going to bed, and then Dean had the former angel gripping his arm and dragging him into the bedroom, muttering something about ‘damn hunter.’

“Oof,” Dean exhaled, still not completely adjusted to the way Cas’s mouth felt against his skin, his friend flicking his tongue against his pulse. Cas laughed into his neck, his body shaking where they were pressed together.

“Making fun of me? Asshole.”

Cas lifted up again, stroking at his face with calloused fingers. “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

“That’s more like it.” Dean fisted his hands in Cas’s hair (getting pretty long now, Dean didn’t mind) and dragged him down until their mouths met. Cas moaned against his mouth, sucking softly against Dean’s lower lip and slipping his arms around the hunter to press them closer. Dean noticed that Cas loved to hold him, wrap them up so that their wasn’t a breath of space between them.

When they broke apart, Cas’s pupils were blown wide. Wordlessly, he pushed them up onto the bed, Dean kicking his boots off as his feet left the floor. He flopped back against the pillows, drawing Cas back to him and aligning their hips again. Cas rocked his hips back and forth, almost absentmindedly, as he stared down at Dean, watching him gasp at the small friction against his own hardening cock. Dean felt himself flush at Cas’s unabashed gaze, eyes heavy as they tried to catch his own.

“Dean, will you look at me, please?”

Dean locked eyes with him, sightlessly threading their fingers together. The former angel’s face was smooth and calm, but his voice shook, thick with something indefinable. “Dean, I—“ But something caught and the moment snapped. It was still there, hanging with promise around them.

They would have time.

“C’mere,” Dean whispered, dragging Cas back down to kiss him, open mouths sloppy and hot and still tasting like cinnamon and sugar. Cas’s hands were tugging at his shirt, lifting it over his head and immediately returning to mouth at Dean’s collarbones, sucking and biting lightly until Dean was panting and pressing his hips back up to meet with Cas’s, his friend’s own cock lining up with the juncture between Dean’s hip and thigh. Dean tugged at Cas’s shirt until he whipped it over his head and they were pressed, skin to skin. Cas moved lower though, open mouth and breath running over Dean’s ribcage and down to the soft swell of his lower belly.

“Cas,” he panted, running the tips of his fingers through the fringe of Cas’s hair.

“Yes, Dean?” Cas’s muffled voice sent a rumble of vibration up Dean’s spine, wrenching a moan that was probably too loud for their shared residence.

“Don’t be a smart ass.”

Cas laughed, and Dean’s eyes fluttered shut at the sound. Cas only just started laughing last week, the sound small and rough but present nonetheless. It grew stronger, more genuine every time and Dean looked forward to the day when he would throw his head back and really laugh.

Cas was undoing his buttons, shoving Dean’s pants and boxers away until the they drifted to the floor. His lips mouthed wetly at the insides of Dean’s thighs, leaving the dampness to dry and cool in the open air. Dean hissed when Cas’s fingers ghosted over his cock, lightly caressing the tip as his mouth kissed anywhere but. He clenched and unclenched his toes, feet going numb with the myriad of sensation coursing through him. And then Cas’s mouth was on him and he saw stars behind his closed eyelids.

He would never get sick of how Cas took care of him this way, mouth soft and sucking and breath hot. His hands pressed down at Dean’s hipbones, keeping him in place while he adjusted.  Dean felt him opening up, taking him deeper until almost all of him was sheathed in Cas’s mouth. He bobbed a few times, up and down and licked at the tip, and Dean was only half conscious of the sounds erupting from his throat due to the growing ringing in his ears.

Then Cas’s hands slipped down to grip as his ass, slinging Dean’s legs over his shoulders and taking him in deeper. Dean jerked up involuntarily, trying to hold still, but Cas only moaned and pressed him in closer, squeezing at his ass and swallowing him down and dammit if he couldn’t hold on any longer, coming with a gasp and arching his back off the bed, the cool air of the room contrasting with the flushed heat coursing through him.

Dean pulled Cas back up to him, pressing their slacked lips together, tasting himself on Cas’s mouth and tongue, not really kissing as much as breathing each other in. His hand drifted down to flick open Cas’s pants, reaching in impatiently to jack him off slow and steady as Cas panted into his mouth, foreheads pressed together. When he came Dean swallowed down his moans with a kiss, his come striping across his chest, too spent to care.

Cas flopped down beside him, eyes shut and arm thrown above his head. “Happy Thanksgiving, Dean.”

Dean already felt a fog coming over him, sinking into the memory foam despite the fact that they were both filthy. “Thank God you’re here, Cas,” he mumbled. He felt a shift and a press of dry lips to his shoulder, and Cas might have said something too. He was too gone to hear.


End file.
